Maybe Ruby was right. He needed Mona.
Oh boy, he was in trouble. Yes, he had to figure out a way to stay or his heart would take a serious beating.
“Closing up, mister. Did you want to get something?” The brunette stood before him, hands on her hips, eyeballing him like he was a shoplifter or the local hobo trying to find a place to park for the night. He certainly looked the part.
“Yes, dog shampoo.”
“You’re not going to find it standing next to cosmetics. Try third aisle down, next to the flea-and-tick medicine.” Her condescending voice shrank him three sizes.
He slunk over to the pet aisle and grabbed the first bottle of shampoo he could find. The clerk was counting change at the front. He plunked the bottle down on the counter and reached for his wallet. Flipping it open, he paused for a moment at a picture of himself on a fishing boat, holding a coho salmon, surrounded by a group of grinning, grimy sailors. In the photo, his hair was long and tangled, and he had at least an inch of whisker growth on his face.
“Hey, great picture!” The clerk leaned over and studied it, actually grabbing the wallet to pull it closer. “You know, I’ve seen that photo somewhere before. . . .”
Joe stifled a groan. He pulled the wallet away. “How much for the shampoo?”
The clerk smiled as if she had a secret. “You’re not—”
“No. How much?”
She licked her lips and scrutinized him. “You know, if you added the beard, you’d look just like—”
“I don’t need the shampoo. Thanks anyway.” Joe spun on his heel and darted through the door before the clerk could finish her thought.
His throat thickened as he stalked to the truck. A noose had banded around his chest—the very noose he’d been expecting for weeks. He unlocked the door, got in, and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, breathing hard. Yes, he needed Mona. But he was the last thing she needed. She had her hands full building her life, and the Joe Michaels deluxe package, complete with handicapped brother and covert identity, did not fit into that reality. She needed a man who could hang up his backpack and invest in her dreams.
Instead he’d spent the past month knitting together a facade of white lies. Lies meant to keep him and Gabe safe. Lies that could unravel any moment.
No, he couldn’t stay.
He closed his eyes and fought the urge to weep.
22
Mona leaned against the doorjamb, a wadded dust rag in her hand, and watched Joe as he sat on the front steps and watched the fiery sunset. He had a worn blue baseball cap propped backwards on his head, and he held his hammer in his lap while he absently rubbed Rip’s ear. She lifted a tiny prayer of thanks for her handyman.He’s so much more than I expected, Lord.
“ And He will give you your heart’s desires.” The words buzzing through her memory made her tremble.
After their date to the dump, Joe had disappeared all day Saturday and most of Sunday. Where to, she had no idea, but she had missed him. Relief had washed over her when she heard his truck pull into the gravel drive late last night. Missing him, she realized, was a fairly significant emotion. It meant she’d made room for him in her life. She was starting to depend on him. She tried to ignore the rush of fear at that thought.
Her emotions did a tiny jig when he’d rapped on her back door this morning, just as dawn dented the sky, asking to be put to work. Liza was already painting something in the back shed, and Mona had been making a list while brewing her first pot of coffee.
One glimpse of Joe’s alluring smile had sidetracked her pensive thoughts of the upcoming day, and she had to fight to keep her emotions at bay. But when he slid onto the counter, accepted a steaming cup of coffee, and said, “At your service, milady,” she melted. She’d never had a problem with shyness before, but in that instant, words abandoned her. The twinkle in Joe’s magnetic blue eyes didn’t help.
It took a long sip of coffee before she could say, “Bruce Schultz is bringing over the bookcases.”
“Great!” Joe exclaimed, as if moving furniture was exactly how he wanted to spend a Monday morning. Her face flamed, and to her profound relief, the doorbell rang just then.
Mona raced Joe to the door and met Bruce. The old carpenter, wearing a faded flannel shirt and a fraying Minnesota Twins hat, smiled through his tanned, wrinkled face. He was an old family friend with a long list of customers. She’d wisely put in her order for handcrafted oak bookcases months ago.
“Got your order in the truck. Where do you want ’em?” Bruce hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and grinned. Joe extended his hand and introduced himself. Bruce pumped it like they were old friends. Mona had to admit that Joe fit right in with the Deep Haven wildlife.
Mona directed the movers to the living room, where the sunlight glided over the smoothly varnished floors. She’d spent the rest of the day painting the final coat of varnish on her coffee bar and hanging a bright yellow, rose, and light blue plaid swag over the newly painted front windows.
Now a heady peace swept through her as twilight polished the room in rose gold. Mona ran the dust rag over the paned-glass, oak front door Bruce had installed. She’d commissioned the oval glass picture of a pine tree, lake, and rocky bluffs from one of Liza’s art buddies in the city. The perfect rendition of heaven on earth.
Rip groaned in pleasure as Joe rubbed his ear. Beyond them, the red sun painted the lake in shades of cranberry.
Mona stepped outside and plopped down beside them on the steps, hugging her knees. “Why do you call him Rip?”
Joe cupped the dog’s snout. “He tried to eat me.”
“You survived, I see.”
Joe angled her a wicked grin. “Barely. He tore a hole in my favorite jeans. Hey, you don’t sew, do you?”
Mona returned a mock glare. “Don’t even think it.”She found it so easy to relax inside Joe’s honeyed laughter. “You seem to know your way around animals.” She reached over and patted Rip on the head.
Joe caught her hand and directed it to a soft spot behind Rip’s floppy left ear. “Here. He likes it right here.”
The feel of Joe’s hand on hers sent waves of heat through her veins. The warmth lingered long after he let go and folded his hands between his knees.
“I’ve had a few dogs,” he added. “First one was named Stretch. He was a dachshund I picked up in Mexico . . . saved him from being a fella’s lunch.”
Mona swallowed a grin.
“The next dog was a cocker spaniel—blonde and feisty.” Joe cocked an eyebrow at her. Mona swatted him with her dust rag. “No, she was sweet as sugar and with me for many years. Finally died one day in my lap as I was driving through Montana.”
“What was her name?”
“Olive Oyl.”
“Olive Oyl?” Mona frowned at him.
“You know, Popeye’s girl?”
She rolled her eyes. “So you think you’re Popeye?”
He pasted on a mischievous look and flexed his muscles. “No, I’m Brutus!”
Mona giggled, then gave way to a hearty laugh. It felt good.
Joe smiled at her approvingly. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Mona.”
She heard her name as a melody in his voice and felt an accompanying tingle down to her toes. “I laugh, Joe.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not enough.Your laughter reminds me of the breeze from Lake Superior . . . refreshing and clean.”
His compliment settled over her like a soft flannel blanket. “So, you’ve had a few dogs. Ever had any girlfriends?”
The bold question had incubated in the warmth of his kind words, but as soon as it escaped, Mona wanted to die on the spot. Why had she asked that? It was so revealing and desperate. She felt like skipping herself into the lake surf, along with the other shards of bare driftwood, and letting the waves wash her far, far away.
It seemed to catch Joe off balance as well, and it eased her pain to see he’d turned faintly red. He swallowed hard. She noti
ced that all at once he found the sunset riveting. “A few. Not many. No one that stuck around.”
“Or you didn’t stick around for . . . ,” she added quietly. She was really going out on a limb, and her audacity stunned her. But she had to know. Did Joe usually do the leaving? Or had he been left?
“Right,” he said simply, and her heart fell slightly.
“Maybe you just never found the right place to call home,” she offered softly.
“Maybe,” Joe whispered. He picked up a twig and threw it. Rip shot after it like it was fresh meat.
The air seemed hotter than she had thought, and the humidity moistened her skin. “I gotta get back to work,” she murmured.
“Mona, wait.” Joe’s voice, small as it was, practically grabbed her. “I have to know something. Why are you doing this? Deep Haven is such a remote place, and you are so young to be settling down here. Why?”
The lilac tree in the front yard had just begun to bud clumps of lavender, but the breeze reaped the scent and perfumed the sunset. Mona rubbed her knees and sighed. “This has been my dream since I was a kid. It just seemed to make sense, especially after . . .” Mona let her explanation die. No need to bring it up. It wasn’t any of his business, especially if he wasn’t sticking around. She felt her fragile hope start to wither.
“After?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” Mona sprang to her feet, shooting for a quick retreat. Tears stabbed at her eyes.
“Mona.” Joe caught her wrist.
Mona paused, one foot on the upper step. Please, don’t make me tell you.
“I think this will be a great place.”
Mona bit her lip. An unguarded tear made it over the edge. She smiled weakly. “You think so?”
Joe released her. “I know a little bit of heaven when I see it.”
Something like a whimper erupted inside her, and all at once she was sitting beside him and pouring out the entire wretched story.
“I was born with a headstrong streak, and as my father’s only daughter, he fed the independent blaze. While I suppose it has helped me pull together the Footstep, perhaps I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it weren’t for my penchant to have my own way.”
Mona’s throat closed, but she forced words through.“It happened ten years ago, after our annual summer vacation here in Deep Haven. My mom decided to stay on for another week; she likes the early autumn and the spray of firelight in the poplar and oak along the hill. I, however, was starting school, and my pop had offered to help me move.” She closed her eyes, remembering their last conversation.
“We left for home too late. I suppose neither of us could abandon the last sunset on the beach. We watched God paint the sky, turning the lake from indigo to platinum.” Her eyes misted, and her voice turned ragged despite her attempts at composure. “That last sunset was magnificent.”
Mona felt Joe’s eyes on her but refused to meet his gaze. Steeling herself, she curled her arms around her waist and continued, tumbling over her words. “I insisted on driving, of course, even though we were both tired. The accident happened south of Duluth on I-35 around midnight.” She focused on the blurry shoreline. “I don’t remember much. One second the road was a clear black ribbon; the next, headlights blinded me like lasers.”
Her voice dropped to a wretched whisper. “I fell asleep at the wheel.”
When she felt Joe’s arm edge around her, she instinctively stiffened. “Thankfully, Pop slept through it. He never felt a thing. I swerved and the truck broadsided us.” She swallowed the wool that had gathered in her throat. “I survived.”
She refused to surrender to Joe’s gentle nudge but was grateful for it all the same.
“My mom and dad were together twenty-five years. Three months after the accident, Mom bought a condo in Arizona.” Mona knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn’t erase the tone from her voice.
Joe sat silently beside her, his arm around her waist. His presence eased the brutality of the memory, and as the wind dried the tears on her cheeks, twilight slowly descended, a beautiful canopy of magenta and periwinkle.
“I don’t know why the Footstep is so important to me,” she finally offered, flicking a glance up at Joe. “But I feel like I’ve been searching for something all this time, and it was right here waiting for me.”
Joe captured her gaze with his languid blue eyes that seemed more perceptive than she felt comfortable with.“Peace, maybe?”
Mona bit her lip. Maybe she had been searching for peace. It certainly wasn’t an easy commodity to lay her hands on. But maybe here . . . especially sitting next to Joe . . . She wiped her cheeks. “So, Joe. In fairness, why are you here?”
Joe withdrew his arm, threaded his fingers together, and cracked his knuckles in a staccato rhythm. “I’m not sure. But peace, maybe, sounds okay.”
“Come for a walk with me?” Mona ducked her head into Liza’s room. Liza sat cross-legged on her orange carpet, a garden of pottery sitting on a plastic sheet arranged in a circle around her. “What are you doing?”
“Signing my stuff.” Liza looked up and grinned.“These are going to be collector’s items someday, you know.”
“Absolutely.”
“Where are you headed?” Liza returned her focus to the mug in her hand.
“Down to the beach. I have some stale bread I thought I’d throw to the scavengers.”
“Yum,” Liza said, but her attention stayed on the work in her lap.
Mona was just turning away when Liza glanced up abruptly. “I’m going to go see Brian. He’s sitting in the Deep Haven jail, and I think he needs some company.”
A shocked gasp escaped Mona. “Why?”
“Because he’s our friend.”
“He’s our enemy. He tried to destroy us.”
Liza’s dark eyes glinted. “I know. But he needs some forgiveness, and we need to give it to him.”
Mona considered her friend. Liza had a way of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. Reality never seemed to hit her straight on. Even Brian’s deception and betrayal had only skimmed her emotions. Why?
“I’m not sure I can do that. He set out to destroy me, to wreck my dream. He even tried to kill me!”
Liza set down her pot. Her face flecked with the hue of sadness, and tears edged her eyes. “Mona, honey, you call this place the Footstep of Heaven. And it will be, for both of us. I’ve been dreaming this particular dream since you suggested it five years ago. But for it to truly be the ‘footstep of heaven,’ the fragrance of heaven needs to permeate this place, not just be a sign over the door. We have to forgive, even if Brian doesn’t deserve it.”
The truth of Liza’s words struck a soft place in Mona’s heart, but everything inside her rebelled from the thought. Her face must have reflected her pain, for compassion entered Liza’s expression. “I know it is harder for you, Mona. You have so much more invested in this place than I do. But think about it.”
Mona nodded, unable to get words past her confusion.
“We can hardly expect God to forgive us when we don’t forgive others,” Liza reminded softly.
The moon hung like a thumbnail in the inky sky above Lake Superior. Mona lifted her face to the brisk wind and listened to the waves crash on shore. The air smelled wet and fishy. Mona spotted seagulls riding the rolling current.
Liza’s words burned in Mona’s chest. She’d never expected God to forgive her. Somehow it just seemed logical that forgiveness, like blessings, had to be earned. The grace of God simply overwhelmed her, and to be honest, she struggled to embrace it. She seemed to be constantly grabbing at reality, trying to take in the concept, afraid to settle in and be comfortable with the impossibility, the wonder, the magnitude of forgiveness. And of course, God’s forgiveness meant that she should certainly forgive herself.
Sometimes that was asking too much.
Liza was right about one thing—Mona couldn’t let bitterness and anger sour her future. Perhaps that was why Liza seemed to bounce back
from Brian’s deception so easily. She’d already wrestled with forgiveness and won. Mona had to agree that in order for God to truly bless the Footstep of Heaven, she would have to find a way to forgive Brian also.
Mona picked her way along the shore. Rocks crunched and rolled under her steps. She found a large uneven boulder, hoisted herself aboard, and gazed skyward. Lord, I know You want me to forgive Brian. Please help me. Mona pinched her lips together to keep her jaw from quivering. Forgiveness was a painful and soul-wringing affair, and she couldn’t manage it without God’s help. But He had already answered her other prayers, in ways she wouldn’t have imagined.
Mona pressed her fingers against her eyes and effectively halted her tears. The image of her handyman filled her mind with such clarity, she could trace his face. Joe had been an answer to prayer. A blessing. And if her heart spoke the truth, she desperately wanted him to stay.
His words lingered in her mind. Peace, maybe. Why would Joe need peace? What kept him drifting from place to place? He’d certainly made the rounds—Mexico, Montana, and did he say Russia? The man was a tight lipped enigma, to put it in shorthand. That certainly wasn’t the prescription for a solid relationship.
But she had to admit that she hadn’t felt so comfortable in a man’s presence since she’d sat on the beach with her father years ago. And Joe offered her more than just comfort. While her father had stood before her, guiding and advising, Joe stationed himself behind her, supporting and encouraging. When she thought of him, something inside her made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close. Forever. She’d known it this afternoon when he’d listened to her story without comment or accusation, then spoken those tender words. She’d even known it Friday, sitting at the dump, nestled against his shoulder, cherishing every minute.
Happily Ever After Page 21